


I Missed Missing You

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anal Sex, Burritos, Fluff, Gay, Idiots in Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Peterick, Peterick Smut, Pining, Porn With Plot, Post-Divorce, Power Bottom Patrick Stump, Smut, falling back in love, pete talks about the human centipede
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 08:21:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26848846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Based on the interview where Patrick said he brought Pete burritos after his divorce was finalized and they watched terminator but I found that real sus so here’s porn based around that :) found in my drafts decided 2 post
Relationships: Patrick Stump & Pete Wentz, Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	I Missed Missing You

Patrick is terrified. 

Why? He's holding a bag of hot, local Mexican food in a plastic bag that yells THANK YOU all the way down it in bright red print. He's not scared of what the cheese-heavy and carbohydrate disaster that was the Mexican food - two burritos, one with chicken, one vegetarian - he got the meatless one for himself, the other one is what he’s scared of us. He’s not scared of a burrito...Patrick is terrified of where he's going. 

When Patrick caught news of Pete's divorce, it was over a call at two am with him crying. Soft sniffles as he told Patrick how he's living in his own apartment that he rented and that he doesn't know how to tell his son. Patrick wished he cared as much as he did, you wouldn't call your ex to tell them that the person they chose over you left them...would you? Patrick didn’t really care Pete was sad, he got himself into the mess of marrying a woman while sleeping with his best friend for years. Deep down, Patrick cares though. He knows Pete stayed with his ex wife for their child, but that doesn’t make up from all the shit Pete had put Patrick through.

The production of Infinity On High was a mess, Patrick loosing the only person he's ever loved to a bleach-blonde model with a sad music carrier. Patrick was more embarrassed about the fact that Pete chose a girl that couldn't even sing her performance on Saturday Night Live than the fact that Pete left him. Patrick has range, alongside unfortunately unconditional love for Pete, unlike Ashlee. 

Patrick would rather die before he lip synced his own song. 

Patrick never stopped loving Pete. Even when he was Pete's best man at his wedding, he still had the strongest feelings. It was so painful, seeing the man he spent so much time with, so many sweaty nights in the back of cars and motels with, wrote songs with...vow to spent the rest of his life with someone else. He had the kind of feelings that drive a person to drop everything and everyone they care about just to see them. So Patrick left Fall Out Boy. 

He left Andy, Joe and Pete, he left his fans and he left his major pay check behind for himself. 

Love can make a person do strange things.

Towards the end of Fall Out Boy's short life, Pete and Patrick were fighting more than they were talking. They were also drinking, drinking a lot for two light weights. Patrick thought that maybe, maybe, he could get so drunk he forget Ashlee and Pete's relationship ever existed. It never worked, alcohol is only good until you rely on it with every step, movement and thought you take or make. 

Patrick knew Ashlee was no good for Pete. She was needy, always gaslighting and always calling him so he had no other time but Ashlee-Ashlee-Ashlee. Where was Ashlee when Pete was in the hospital for his suicide attempt? Where was Ashlee when Pete couldn't sleep and Patrick would sing to him? Where was Ashlee when Pete was homesick?

Now that Ashlee was leaving him at one of his most vulnerable times only fueled Patrick's deep-set hatred for her. It's not like Patrick would do anything...although, he did fantasize about tap-dancing all over her car in a pair of red heels. 

Patrick enters the apartment building Pete was currently renting a flat at, holding a take out bag and a bottle of Pete's favorite wine in the other hand. He looks so strange, holding a meal and a whole bottle of wine in sweat pants and a button up. He's also wearing his back up glasses, the frame is too large on his tiny nose, so he's constantly having to push them up. He tells the security he's Uber Eats for Pete Wentz, which surprisingly works when the man tells him which house belongs to Mr. Wentz. The security isn't too high here, surprisingly because it's a higher-class neighborhood, any one of his millions of fan girls - and boys - could bring a pizza and pretend to be a delivery man. Patrick shutters what what the fans might do, but then again, Fall Out Boy isn't a thing anymore. 

Patrick steps into the elevator, the strong scent of moth balls and metal hits his nose and he presses the button for the fifth floor. The elevator dings, the light flickers and Patrick gets flash backs of when he watched The Shining when he was seven. 

He's practically shaking, he hasn't seen Pete in a year. Aside from People Magazine cameos about his family...well, what it used to be. 

What Patrick is doing is called a Ernest Hemingway. Patrick is changing Pete's thoughts and perspective by bringing him food, where as Hemingway, not to be mistaken as Pete Wentz's late bulldog, would write papers...less than two hundred characters.

Pete is probably still mad that Patrick will not answer his texts and pick up his calls. He's hurt, Patrick is hurt. 

He's putting that aside. This is his apology. His apology is picking up exactly where they left off before Folie À Duex, band break ups, wedding rings and pretty, lying bleach blondes.

Patrick thinks it's impossible, their relationship is too complicated. Every single Mission Impossible is sometime possible though, that gives Patrick a little hope. 

Patrick walks down the hallway, checking his phone to find out which apartment is Pete's. The man at the security desk said fifteen, so Patrick is going to follow his directions. To the left, on the right, apartment fifteen. 

The world seems to slow when Patrick stands in front of Pete's door. The last time he saw him face-to-face was when he decided to break up their trophy wife of the punk scene, Fall Out Boy. Patrick wonders if Pete will be mad. Maybe, he'll tell him to fuck off and that he never wants to see him again. Patrick doesn't want that to happen. He's so sick of not seeing Pete. He wants to hold him, hear his voice, laugh at and with him, play with his hair, get mad at him for his extremely stupid jokes, kiss his soft lips and write music with him again. Actually, he would rather not write music again. They usually fight and they both remember 2005. 

Patrick takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. He regrets everything, maybe his new haircut and weight loss can hide who he is and pretend he's actually a worker for Uber Eats. 

Pete's stupid, but he's not that stupid. 

The ground under Patrick starts to freeze, it feels like dream, running through water, frozen. He can't move. He can't breathe. This is an early state of a premeditated panic attack that he'll never recover from.

The door clicks, shadows under the door of two feet. Patrick's breath slows, sweat under his glasses building up. The wooden door swings open with a creak, the strong smell of Old Spice BearGlove aftershave, CK Eternity and slight scent of soy sauce hits Patrick's nose and it smells like home. 

It smells like Pete. 

Pete stands there, nostalgia and so many other emotions that don't have names wash over Patrick. He's in grey, Champion sweat pants, a baggy Metallica shirt and froggy socks. Fucking froggy socks. There's something so charming about how his hair is messy, he's in his Saturday sweats and he's wearing graphic socks. For a second, it feels charming, like 2006 when they were young and in love. Patrick looks into Pete's eyes, they look tired, like three days of no sleep, just Jack Daniels and crying. Which is probably something that he did. 

"Patrick? What are you doing here?" Pete's voice is soft, sad and raspy. He looks beat up, body missing life and eyes less bright and coppery and more...cried out and dead. 

"I brought you food. Chicken burrito, no salsa." Patrick smiles, holding up the bag. Pete doesn't seem impressed, he looks more pissed off, like why is this asshole keeping me from my LifeTime movies and crying. "And wine." Patrick adds, holding up the bottle of Rosé. Pete shrugs, eyes lighting up slightly at the wine. 

"Uh, come on in. It's kinda a mess...heh." Pete laughs softly, it sounds forced. "Do you mind waiting out here? Just for a second? I'm just going to...clean it up." Pete starts to close the door, Patrick sighing and saying fine. He's really just relived that Pete isn't mad. That he isn't about to kill him. Fuck, maybe the body of Ashlee and that other girl he dated was in there and he quit the band to be a serial killer. 

"Pete, no. Don't leave me out here-" Patrick starts, slamming the palm of his hand on the painted white door, but he's too late. Pete slams it. There's a sound of someone running around the hard wood, spraying of Febreeze and moving a chair. Patrick looks down at his phone, texting his mom that he's safe. (She worries, LA is a crazy place). The door creaks open again, the heavy smell of cologne and air freshener thick when Patrick steps in.

"Sorry 'bout that. It's been emotional." Pete cracks a somber smile, leading me to the kitchen to set down the food.

"So, no sex dungeon?" Patrick cracks a joke, like they a normal couple, rather than one who was together, one of them got married, now getting divorced and the other one currently is in their house and still has feelings. Pete laughs, a breathy exhale from his nose. 

"No, no. Ash-fuck. I'm sorry." Pete cringes when he accidentally says his ex-wife's name, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We aren't together anymore, Pete." He says under his breath to himself, stopping his unwrapping of his burrito. 

"Hey....it's okay." Patrick sighs, walking across the smaller kitchen and putting an arm around him. Pete just sighs, looking up at the ceiling to blink back what Patrick assumes are tears. 

"I'm just...ngh, I don't really miss her, I'm just not used to life without her. Like, I left the toilet seat up this morning, Rick." 

Rick. They are really going right back to the before-Ashlee era of their lives. Punching a cheating ex girlfriend, singing each other to sleep, sex backstage in changing rooms...

"Mm. You are doing amazing." Patrick says into the crook of his neck. "It's going to be tough." 

"Am I unloveable?" Pete asks, voice soft and breath cold on Patrick's ear. So we’re spiraling in the kitchen, Patrick thinks. He’s ready to be a therapist, he prepared for this. Pete and Patrick's relationship is about as parallel as a playground in a third world country. They hug, Patrick missed this. Pete's body is strong, arms around Patrick's back. 

"No Pete, you are so lovable." Patrick says into Pete’s shoulder and he means it. Everything about him was Patrick's favorite thing about him. From his obsession with Life Time movies to his froggy socks, even his Nightmare Before Christmas tattoos. 

"Why'd she leave me then?" Pete sighs, burying his face in the soft fabric of Patrick's shirt that rests on his shoulder. "Why'd you leave me." Patrick's heart sinks, he didn't want to leave him. He needed to, it was...awful. They were fucking and fighting more than they were cuddling and talking...oh and Pete got a girl pregnant. 

"I never stopped loving you." Patrick breathes, a soft tone. He means it, he does. "I spend every day thinking about you. If soulmates exist, you're him. And it sucks because I'll never marry him...I came here to make sure you're well." There is silence, only thing to be heard is Pete's soft breathing and the humming traffic out side of the large apartment. Patrick regrets saying that, Pete is going through enough. He just got custody of his son, for crying out loud. Pete doesn't say anything. Patrick doesn't say anything. Foot in mouth. 

"I...Patrick...I'm." 

"I'm sorry. I should've said anything." Patrick steps away. He feels so bad, so embarrassed. Why did he have to say that? Why did he have to tell Pete how he felt? Emotions are better under the rug, swept there with his fragile bisexuality. 

"No...no. I'm just so sorry. I was young and dumb and trying to impress my dad by bringing home a rich blonde. It's pretty obvious I chose the wrong blonde." 

"Mm?" Patrick says, it's embarrassing, he can't even make words. Pete is so strikingly handsome, even when he doesn't try. God, who gave him the right? 

"I still love you. I thought about you my whole wedding, shit...when you gave your best man speech? I pictured us, you in some...stupid blue tux and..and you'd hold a bouquet full of white roses." Pete rambles, pouring all of his repressed fantasies all over the table and Patrick. Patrick freezes, body tensing and feeling a rush of relief. 

"So...feelings are mutual?" Patrick asks, he's so awkward it makes the Scott's Tots episode of The Office look aesthetically pleasing. 

"Always." Pete smiles, he smiles like he would smile before this whole multi-million dollar divorce. He smiles like they are in their early twenties again, touring the Midwest in a shitty van and kissing in truck stop bathrooms.

"Should we pick up where we left off? A movie, our food, wine and spooning?" Pete asks, waggling his eye brows and opening his arms for a second hug. Patrick wonders what will happen tonight. Kissing, definitely. Cuddling, he hopes so. A blow job? That's just protocol....but sex? It's been a year since Patrick has done anything sexual with another person. His search history is an embarrassment of Pete Wentz shirtless, Pete Wentz leaked, Pete Wentz naked. It's prude but Patrick missed his dick, his abs and that breathy, moan he makes before he cums. He also missed his laugh, the way he sings in the shower even though his an awful singer, the way he checks his phone before bed and holds Patrick to his chest as he falls asleep against his skin.

"Yes...yeah. I'd like that." Patrick smiles, moving towards Pete for another hug. Patrick missed everything from his goofy grin to the absent giggle of a full bodied laugh. There's a drift of Pete's hands, moving towards his waist, the tilt and movement of his head as he gazes into Patrick's blue eyes like he's looking for a kiss. The palm of Pete's hand moves to Patrick's hip, then his ass, pulling him close to his chest. "I missed you." Patrick sighs into Pete's collar bone, taking a deep sniff of Pete's scent. The smell of dark chocolate and sex just clung to Pete was so comfortable.

"I missed you too. I didn't like where we left things off...it got so bad. I almost picked up the phone." Pete sighs, so poetic and so over dramatic into Patrick's hair. 

"Neither did I. Let's pick back up where we left off...Terminator?" Patrick looks up at a grinning Pete.

"I thought you'd never ask." Pete smiles, grabbing his burrito and the bottle of wine. They walk to the couch, Pete turning on the television as Patrick pops the cork off of the wine bottle. They eat in silence aside from the action movie and occasional small talk about what has happened in the year that they haven't seen each other. By the third movie, the wine is gone and Patrick's legs are over Pete's lap, Pete's arm around him as they kiss gingerly to their own pace. Patrick missed how domestic their relationship was, how sweetly Pete's mouth fit perfectly against his. Pete moves with caution, still shaken up from his surprise of Patrick at his door step with food. Good food, really good - unhealthy - food. Pete's mouth is dry from the wine, tastes warm of guacamole and rosé. 

"Patrick...Patrick. Patrick." Pete chants, lips ghosting the other, eyes closed. 

"What, what, what?" Patrick replies, a smile as he holds Pete's head away from him by his ears. 

"I don't know if I say this enough, but I love you, so, so much. You're my picket fence, baby." Pete smiles, he smiles. He looks genuinely happy, even if his declaration of his love is straight out of a romance novel from the back of the grocery store, only read by sexually repressed women in their forties. 

"I love you, too." Patrick murmers against his lips, kissing him softly one more time. Patrick needed to hear that, he needed to know that. Deep down, he know Pete loved him, but for a while it felt like brotherly love, the love of friendship. This, this was not it. Pete was kissing him like he was searching for cavities and his left hand was moving over the swell of his ass. 

"Too bad you moved back home. I miss you so fucking much, Rick. I want to wake up next to you, I know this amazing breakfast place...oh my god, you would love it. I'll move to Chicago."

"Pete, no." Patrick laughs, kissing his nose, arms resting over his shoulders. "I'm making an album, a solo one. Im going to be staying here until the album gets out, then I'm going to be touring." Pete looks confused, like how does an album have to do with missing his...Patrick. They don't have time for labels right now. "I'll be making the album in LA. I'm going to be living here for a couple months." Pete's eyes light up, finally understanding. 

"Can I give you a house tour? Since you'll be staying here." Patrick’s sex starved penis jumps, his breath hitches. His cloudy and hormonal brain takes a shot in the dark and makes a bold move. It’s not really a shot in the dark, he knows Pete is always down for sex, even during his relationship with girls.

"Skip the tour, show me the bedroom." Patrick has just the right amount of tipsy bravery, wine drunk and horny. A year without Pete is a year not well spent. Pete's innocent smile twists into a sheepish grin, kissing the blonde one more time. This time, it was with far too much tongue, his hand moving under Patrick's shirt and brushing over his soft skin. 

"Mm. I like the way you think, Stump." Pete smiles against his lips, standing up off of the couch. Their feet trail to the bedroom, Pete swings open the door, pressing Patrick against the door to kiss him again. Pete's room is clean, surprisingly, his clothes piled and folded in the corner. There's a bass pressed in the corner, a large Metallica poster above his bed and messy black sheets. The windows in his bedroom over look the city, bright city lights streaking in and lighting up the dark room in red-blue-green-white. Pete lights a candle on his bedside table, it's scented some sort of vanilla ice cream. It's a sweet gesture, Pete remembered how much Patrick appreciates romantic and passionate sex. 

"You look so handsome." Pete sighs, tucking some of Patrick's peroxide-drenched hair behind his ear. 

"So do you." Patrick smiles, tugging on the hem of Pete's teeshirt. 

"Good enough to eat." Pete purrs, kissing the side of his neck. "Man, I want to see you naked again. It’s been too long.” 

"Yeah? Then I'm gonna make your day." Patrick smirks, hand dipping down and giving a light slap to Pete's ass. Pete's eyes spring open, a lazy smile spreading across his face. They fall back on the bed, Patrick on top, between Pete's legs as they kiss again. Pete looks so relaxed, head against a pillow as Patrick pulls his bottom lip into his mouth. The room starts to smell like the cheap candle on Pete's bedside table, but the sheets still smell strongly of Pete. Patrick kisses Pete's neck, his lips, collar bone...everywhere. Pete sits up, pulling off his teeshirt and throwing it on the ground. Patrick looks at Pete's torso like a dog would at a rack of baby back ribs, mouth slightly open and eyes wide. Pete lays back down, laughing as he looks up at Patrick. His laughter is contagious, Patrick smiling as well. Patrick presses his lips to Pete's thorn tattoo, dragging his mouth down to his sternum, over Pete's nipples and down the center of his abs. 

Patrick flicks his eyes up Pete, eyes reflecting the lights of downtown Los Angeles behind them. They don’t need to use words, Pete’s mouth says it all. So does his red dick drooling wet on his grey boxers. His chin is resting on Pete's stomach, gazing up at him. It's serine, he wants to be here forever. He missed this...so, so much. Pete's dick presses up on Patrick's stomach and he presses a kiss to the center of Pete's bartskull tattoo. 

"S'not nice to tease, Patrick." Pete says, looking down at him. Patrick kisses his tattoo one more time before pulling his sweatpants down and rubbing his hand over the bulge in his boxers.

"Can I suck you off?" Patrick asks, reaching into Pete's boxers and pulling out his dick. He groans when Patrick's fist raps around the upper shaft. 

"Can't say no to that. Make it good." Pete mumbles, groaning when Patrick takes a long lick at the underside of his growing erection. Patrick hasn't sucked dick in a year, he's not sure if he remembers how to do it. He remembers why he liked this so much when he raps his lips around the head of Pete's dick, lapping the pre-cum that bubbles at the tip. Patrick does his best to make it good, per Pete's request. Patrick missed Pete'a dick, the way it was dark and red contrast against his tan skin and dark ink of his bartskull tattoo. Patrick feels wanted again, warm as Pete looks down at him as he sucks him off. Pete was hot and heavy in Patrick's mouth, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Oh my god." Pete moans at the ceiling, hands carding through Patrick's bleached hair. Patrick feels wanted as he bobs his head on the shaft of Pete's cock, moving his hand as he pumps him along with his mouth. Patrick hums a response against Pete's dick, looking up at Pete the whole time. His glasses slide down his nose, face sweating and filling with heat. Patrick is blushing, rubbing his free palm against his own crotch. Pete was making greedy noises, the breathy moans that Patrick missed so much. His skin is so hot, his body is tingling, he’s sweaty and oh my god, he just wants to see Pete cum.

"Fuck, Patrick...I'm gonna cum.." Pete groans, thrusting his hips up. The head of his swollen dick pressing against the back of Patrick's throat, his nose brushing Pete's happy trail and the elastic of his underwear. Patrick swallows the best he can, praying the cum doesn't go down the wrong pipe and...oh god, come out of his nose. Pete shouts as he cums, body shaking and tugging slightly on Patrick's messy hair. After Pete is finished with his climax, he falls limp on the bed. Patrick pops off, wiping a bit of left over white cum off of his bottom lip. 

"Was that good?" Patrick asks with a grin. "It's been a while." 

"Yeah...so good. Missed your mouth." Pete smiles, dick limp as he tucks it back into his sweatpants. 

"Missed your dick."

"Yeah? I think they go good together.”

"Yeah." Patrick reassures. "It's been a while since I rode you." Patrick runs his hands over the bulge in his sweatpants again, other hand on the side of his stomach, rubbing little circles on Pete's hips with the pad of his thumb. 

"Yeah?" Pete's eyes narrow, a lazy smirk widening. “I want that right now.”

"Shh. You are so much sexier when you are silent." Patrick chuckles, getting up. "Where's the lube?" Patrick asks, opening the drawers of his bedside table, almost knocking over the candle. 

"Sock drawer." Pete points at the dresser straight out of an IKEA showroom. Patrick opens the sock drawer, and of corse, nestled between pairs upon pairs of graphic socks, is a bottle of lube and some condoms. Pete definitely prepared for the bachelor life. Patrick grabs the white bottle, but his hands slip and he drops the bottle on the hard wood floor with a crash. Pete looks up, watching Patrick bend over to grab it. "I like my view." Pete says smugly, laying on his side. Patrick scoffs, rolling his eyes as he picks it up, grabbing a condom and walks across the room. 

"Shut up." Patrick laughs, sitting back on the bed. Pete takes off his sweat pants, Patrick helping him remove his underwear. 

"Like what you see?" Pete asks, gesturing at his naked and laying down body. He's all tan skin, muscle, dark ink and stupidity. Pete’s dick curls perfectly, it’s tanned and rushed with red blood over his black Bartskull tattoo. Patrick sweats, his Adam’s apple is heavy in his throat, he sweats. He likes what he sees so much. 

"No. You are horribly ugly." Patrick says, taking his shirt off. He watches his casual, Saturday sweats hit the floor as Pete snaps the lid of the lube off and rolling the condom on.

"Asshole." Pete rolls his eyes as Patrick straddles his waist. They kiss, Patrick rolling his hips over Pete's waist, painful erection laying over Pete's abs. 

“Open me up a little before you fuck me.” Patrick smiles, putting the cold bottle of lube in Pete’s hand. “Gimme two off the bat, babe.” Pete makes a ngh sound, Patrick takes that as a yes. Pete gives him a command to spread, lay back and relax. He doesn’t want to relax though, he’s wasted so long not having sex with Pete during the time he should’ve been having sex with Pete. Pete presses the lube between his fingers, stretching him open and muttering praises about how hot Patrick is and how much he missed him. 

“Jesus, what was I doing without you.” Pete groans, kissing the inside of Patrick’s thigh. 

“Marrying a woman.” Patrick laughs in a satire way as the pad of Pete’s middle finger grazes over the fragile precipice of Patrick’s prostate. He makes a sound like he was tased but enjoyed it after, which made Pete laugh. 

“I’m sorry, you know I am” Pete’s eyes say, Patrick nods back to him with an “I know, I love you, idiot” Pete smiles at him, a large grin that could make Patrick finish right there. 

“I’m good now, you can stop.” He’s left empty when Pete moves his fingers and sits against the headboard, smiling like an idiot. 

“This is nice.” 

"Your dick is nice." Patrick smiles against his lip, combing Pete's hair with his hands. 

"Yeah? How about you sit on it?" Pete smirks, whispering in his ear. 

"Again, please don't talk, you are...so beautiful and then open your mouth." Patrick sighs, angling his body over Pete's - surprisingly large - second erection. 

"So I am good looking. Huh." Pete smirks, Patrick spitefully impaling him self on Pete's cock. That shuts the ex-bassist off, he groans and his eyes roll back in his head. "Fuck, give me a warning before you do that." Pete calls out, Patrick biting his bottom lip to cope with the burning of all seven...plus...inches of Pete inside of his out-of-practice body. 

"No, no." Patrick moans with a slight amount of heat behind his voice. "I want to keep you surprised." Patrick smiles, rocking his hips up and he bends down to press a kiss to Pete's chest. It's burning, Patrick can feel his heartbeat inside of him and it's an amazing feeling. He missed it. He missed how close it was with Pete, his hands on Pete's shoulders, holding him down on the bed as he rides. Patrick liked being on top during this because he had all control but didn't have to top, how deep he wanted to go and how much he wanted to tease Pete. 

"Fuck, move a little faster." Pete asks, a sweaty mess, still tired from his recent and first orgasm. Patrick bends over kissing his lips again, biting down on his lip as he moves. Pete would tell him it hurts, but he wasn't going to ruin Patrick's fun. Patrick is warm and tight, bouncing to a somewhat-decent beat on his prick, holding his shoulders to have more leverage. 

"Touch me. Come on." Patrick asks, well, more of says, before making a high pitched and breathy moan as Pete moves his hips up deeper on him. Whatever Pete just did, felt really, really good. Before, everything was slightly painful but now, it's good. Patrick's body becomes liquid for a second, moaning loudly as he rolls down on the head of Pete's swollen dick. Patrick writhes against him when he rams right on his prostate, feeling himself come closer and closer. "Touch me, please." He begs, so hard he's going blind. 

"Nah, cum for me like this. I know you can." Pete smiles, watching the bleach blonde move and cry out above him. 

"Fuck you." Patrick moans into his shoulder, whole body shaking as he comes closer and closer to finishing. 

"I love you, too, baby." Pete says, right as Patrick climaxes all over Pete's chest with a scream. He cums so hard, Patrick is sure he's going to feel it in the morning. He's out of breath but he doesn't stop. He's determined for Pete to cum again, inside of him. He does, moaning lovely nothings into Patrick's neck as he does. It's sweet, Pete is a sweetheart. They stay there, Pete rapidly softening inside of him as they catch their breaths, Patrick pressing a sweet kiss to Pete's cheek. Pete pulls out, Patrick sitting on the side of bed as he pulls off the condom off and tosses it in the garbage can across the room. 

Patrick lays on the bed, using one of Pete's dirty teeshirts as a cum rag as he wipes Pete's washboard abs clean. Pete would usually protest, but he recognizes it as a shirt he would commonly share with his ex wife. That can wipe up his semen. 

"Seriously, I missed you. Never fucking leave my side again, got it?" Patrick mumbles, sex drunk and lazy on Pete's shoulder as the blonde ticks himself under the comforter. 

"Let me call that Russian dude from Human Centipede. Let's get sown ass-to-mouth." Pete says, playing with Patrick's messy sex hair. He presses a kiss to his forehead, blowing out the candle on his bedside table. 

"Good night, Pete. I love you even when you say stuff like that." Patrick mumbles, biting his bare shoulder before dazing off on his chest. He doesn't hear it, already fast asleep but Pete responds with an monologue about his love. 

“What, you don’t like it when I eat your ass?”

“Good night Pete.” Patrick sighs and wonders why he chose a man that’s smoothest talking is about Human Centipede and eating him out. 

When Patrick wakes up in the morning to use the bathroom, he looks at himself in the mirror. His hair is messy, hickey on his upper neck and an obvious cum stain on his sweatpants. He looks well fucked and happy. 

Patrick walks back into the bedroom, moving back into Pete's octopus-like grip on his body. 

Patrick falls asleep happy, counting Pete's breaths on the back of his neck. He hopes this lasts forever, he missed missing this.

**Author's Note:**

> This was in my drafts and i decided to post cuz it's kinda cute idk I find it funny patrick waltzed in after pete became single again  
> u can find me on tumblr at 5footpissboy and on insta at vampire.tacos!!


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